


Wanderlust

by crazyground



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyground/pseuds/crazyground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yunho is a businessman who throws everything away. he meet changmin in paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for beta-ing, [zee](archriveofourown.org/user/zeerafuu), sorry for all the gross fluff you had to suffer through. :c  
> kind of sort of based on [this](http://shenchangmin.tumblr.com/post/13358049205). I'm pretty lousy at anything that isn't a ridiculous fantasy AU so. i don't really like writing modern settings, i don't think i'll be writing this sort of thing again. \o/ it was fun to try though ahaha.

Yunho is twenty eight and spends most of his life in a box, mechanically crunching numbers and churning out paperwork. It's not actually as bad as it sounds: his box is actually a fully air-conditioned office – if a bit small – his free flow of company coffee comes from the Starbucks in the reception lobby so that's actually drinkable, and his bank account is a sight to behold for someone his age. It's a steady life, a good life, one most people would be enviable of, especially with the current state of the economy, really, Yunho should be grateful –

The most rewarding thing he's ever gotten out of his job is his father's approval that his son had given up his foolish boyhood dreams to follow in his footsteps. Yunho's afraid to admit that even this is starting to lose its appeal.

The most exciting thing about his job is that it's introduced him to Kim Heechul, the freelance designer who once worked in the company's advertising department before a politically incorrect poster distributed Seoul-wide sent him packing. 

It's been a year since his dismissal but they've stayed friends; Heechul drops by for a free lunch and to pass degrading comments about Yunho's pitifully boring lifestyle. Yunho secretly agrees with most of it – except maybe the pitiful part – but he doesn't ever say anything about it because it's not really his thing to complain about the path that he had ultimately chosen for himself. So, he steers the conversation to Heechul's infinitely more adventurous happenings instead. This works most of the time because Heechul always has an interesting story to tell – or at least a cat story he can pretend is interesting – and is greatly inclined towards talking about himself. It's a welcomed break from the monotony of his own life.

Unfortunately, Yunho underestimates Heechul's powers of observation and protective streak that runs a mile wide. The dull of his eyes and hunch of his shoulders do not escape Heechul's notice and he refuses to stand them for long.

* * *

In a fit of irritation, Heechul slams his hands against the cafeteria table and jumps to his feet. He proclaims, "You need to get laid!" with so much gusto that Yunho chokes on his mouthful of sandwich hurriedly getting him to sit back down and shut the fuck up.

"Where the hell did you get such an idea?" Yunho demands. He mops up the mess up off his tie and glares at Heechul.

"You are obviously uptight and too strung out," Heechul waggles an accusing finger in front of Yunho's face. "Don’t bother hiding from this hyung of yours, I see _everything_."

"I'm an accountant, I'm supposed to be uptight!" Yunho swats the offending finger out of his face. "And my sex life is none of your business!"

"So you admit you’re not getting any!" Heechul declares triumphantly.

"Not the point, hyung," Yunho replies through gritted teeth. "And not everyone believes that sex is the answer to everything."

Ah, that's Heechul's 'you must be an idiot if you honestly think that' look. "Well they should," he says slowly, "because it is."

"Why do you always assume everyone's as perverted as you, hyung?" At his look of disbelief, Yunho tries, "Maybe I just need a vacation? A year end bonus? … How about chocolate? Laughter is the best medicine?"

Unmindful of the looks they're getting from Yunho's co-workers, Heechul carries on with an evil glint in his eyes. "Euphemisms!" he grins. "And if you don’t get to it by next week, I will be forced to take drastic action."

Completely used to these threats, Yunho ignores them entirely. Heechul, heart in the right places, is too busy chasing deadlines anyway. And he wouldn't possibly ruin his dongsaeng's life right?

This is why Yunho spends the week after his own Heechul-imposed deadline fending off creepy internet suitors. In a brilliant show of maturity, Heechul had joined a dating site in Yunho's name, and posted his _actual_ contact details up online where every cyber creep has access to.

"I hate you," he tells Heechul with feeling. With angry clicks, he deletes another set of homemade nude photos. Eww. "I hate you and this is clearly reason enough to terminate our friendship."

Heechul rolls his eyes like he can't believe _Yunho's_ dramatics. "I am too fabulous to dump," he states, "also you have another week to pick one of these creepers – he has to pass my standards, mind you, so don't get too hopeful – and then we're busting out the leather pants!"

"Who's we?!" Yunho demands. "I don't have leather pants!"

"Not yet," Heechul says ominously.

Perhaps Yunho should take him seriously this time.

* * *

Because his co-workers are rubbish at titling their emails, Yunho is forced to click open every single one that lands into his inbox. It's how he finds his first normal email from match.com ever; this one catches his eye because 1. the email address is from Europe and 2. it sounds like it comes from an actual human being. And a sane one at that! The font is default and there are no attachments that he needs to worry over. How novel!

> Hi! (: Saw your profile at match.com and you seem nice enough. (: Would like to get to know you, email back if you don't mind. (:

Hmm. The smiley faces strike him as suspicious for some odd reason. It's as though they'd been tacked on to the end of each sentence in an intensely awkward attempt at being friendly. The immaculate grammar furthers his suspicion.

In the end, Yunho blames it on the utter lack of excitement in his life that he adds 'Choikang' to his MSN account. He blames _Heechul_ for actually talking to this internet stranger when he pops up as online later that night.

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- did u no tat ur (: looks creepy
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Excuse me?  
>  \- And please, speak properly!  
>  \- (:
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- see, youre doing it again  
>  \- u cant just use those when  
>  \- youre trying not to sound mean
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Oh. 

Yunho watches the little bar beneath their conversation with great fascination. It keeps blinking _CHOIKANG is typing…_ and then disappearing, and then appearing. It tickles Yunho, he can almost see this anonymous stranger squirming on the other side of his computer screen. He decides to take pity on this poor stranger.

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- lol jst kiddin  
>  \- you new 2 this or sth?
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Yup.  
>  \- Online dating sites aren't really my thing.  
>  \- Maybe you could show me the ropes?
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- no can do  
>  \- its my first time too :x  
>  \- got tricked into this actually lol
> 
> Choikang doesn't reply until fifteen minutes later.
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Oh. I see.  
>  \- I'm bad at this so tell me; is it bad to laugh at strangers over the internet?  
>  \- (:
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- >:(!!!

It can't be helped that they strike up easy conversation after that. Yunho needs to defend his honour! and relays the entire week to Choikang, who is fantastically snarky in a way that would have been rude if his perfectly formal Korean hadn't been so cute. Probably. Maybe Yunho's just a nice person?

> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Of course you are, Yunho-shii!  
>  \- You are surely not sitting at your desk and using a poor defenceless stranger to avoid work!  
>  \- I would never accuse you of such a thing!
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- brat  
>  \- :'(  
>  \- oh crap, boss is calling  
>  \- talk 2 you another time?
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- Sure, anytime. 

* * *

"Look! I picked one!" Yunho picks his laptop right off the desk and shoves its screen in Heechul's face. "Now no extreme measures shall be taken, right?"

"What, seriously?" Heechul peers at it suspiciously, scrolling through his chat logs. "You know I only did this because I got too caught up with my deadlines, right? I didn't really mean for you to pick some pervert off the internet."

 _Now_ he tells him. Yunho sighs before deciding to make the best of it: "Sucks to be you," he informs Heechul cheerfully, "because I like this guy and my social life has now levelled up so no leather!"

"Hah! And this is all it took?" Heechul pats Yunho's hair indulgently. "Then you were worse off than I thought."

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- and thats what he said.  
>  \- ; A ;
> 
> CHOIKANG says:  
>  \- This Heechul sounds like he knows what he's talking about  
>  \- Also, you're welcome. 

* * *

Weekly chats with Choikang whenever he's avoiding work becomes long conversations with _Changmin_ almost every day. They exchange email addresses for the 2nd time (I used a fake email for that sleazy ass site, Changmin admits) and the Changmin's ranting into pages long emails about his stupid bosses and complaining about missing South Korea. Yunho kind of likes him – his stories are always amusing, he's got a way with words – and bears it all with a hundred smiley faces to laugh with (not at!) him. In return for this excellent source of entertainment, Yunho falls into habit of emailing him obnoxiously cheerful motivational forwards and lolcats when Changmin gets too grumpy.

The more they talk, however, the more Changmin dissolves into horrible texting practices. His grammar is still perfect, but his taunts get cheekier and cheekier, and there is an overabundance of exclamation marks.

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- i think i liked you better  
>  \- when you spoke like and old man  
>  \- now you type like a fourteen year old  
>  \- ):
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- whaaaaaaaaaaaat  
>  \- do not!!!!!  
>  \- hhaha now YOU talk like the old man
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- your fault  
>  \- ):
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- kekekeke i hope so??
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- changminnie is so mean to me  
>  \- ; ~ ;
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- what are you sayinggg  
>  \- this is how i sms!!  
>  \- don't you feel closer now~~~~
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- of course~~~~
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- ewwww :|
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- brat :|  
>  \- wait  
>  \- if you knew how to netspeak then why were you so uptight  
>  \- when we first met  
>  \- ?
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- oh. about that.  
>  \- i uhhh
> 
> \- youre not who you say you are?  
>  \- youre not actually changmin  
>  \- youre actually a super secret spy for the govt  
>  \- spying on poor unsuspecting accountants  
>  \- ???  
>  \- profit! 
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- hahahaha  
>  \- uhm  
>  \- what will happen if I tell you that you're actually half right?
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- i'd be surprised and then get over it?  
>  \- i mean  
>  \- this is the internet  
>  \- and tbh you dont seem like the type to hang out on dating sites
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- haha yeah
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- so  
>  \- what were you really up to?
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- you know how i'm a journalist, right?  
>  \- i was actually doing research
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- …  
>  \- on a dating website
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- it was on the dangers of the internet!  
>  \- you are a useless internet pervert btw
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- haha did I screw up you article??
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- actually i just changed topic
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- ??
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- uhh nothing
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- google!
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- shit  
>  \- don't  
>  \- please don't do that
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  \- yunho?
> 
> Changmin says:  
>  Yunho hyung? 

* * *

Yunho ignores Changmin in a fit of anger.

To be honest, the anger part only lasts an hour or two before settling into bitter resignation of the facts of his life. The fit lasts for a week because Changmin's words echo at the back of his head, a phantom voice that will not leave him alone. He keeps the article open on his laptop, heck, he prints it out and pastes it below a shelf above his desk, where only he can see.

And when Yunho's feeling particularly masochistic, he will look up and reread the article – abandoned hopes and dreams, disenchanted new generation, an oddly specific case study but that's what he gets for spilling everything to a stranger in the internet – until stinging regret punches him in the gut. Yunho's read it so many times that he may have memorised it by now. No matter how often they bounce around in his skull, Changmin's words never lose their impact.

It casts a hue of disappointment and a hint of incredulity over every aspect of his actions. His work is infinitely more boring – _how?_ Yunho wonders as the font of his documents blur before his eyes, when it was already so mind-numbingly tedious in the first place. His coffee is never quite strong enough, he hates the fax machine even more than usual, and even Heechul's tales begin to sound bland to his newly opened ears.

"You're fidgeting," Heechul observes, "like a man possessed."

Yunho stops chewing abruptly, and stares back at him. He swallows.

"Hyung, are you – " he frowns, uncertain of what he means to ask. "Hyung, what are you going to do next?"

Heechul quirks an eyebow at him. "Next? Like, after lunch? After this project? After today?"

Yunho shakes his head and pinwheels his arms in wide circles. He's still not sure what he's getting at but Heechul catches on quicker than he does.

"I," says Heechul with utter seriousness, "am going to be fabulous." He takes a sip of his caramel latte. "Right now I am being fabulous at a job I am fabulous at. And soon, I will be fabulous in China. After that I'll be fabulous wherever and at whatever I fucking feel like."

"In China? You've gotten job offers there?"

"What? Nah, my boyfriend's a dick and wants to go home."

Right. Yunho recalls a Han Geng somewhere in his stash of 'the many times I got smashed at Heechul's parties' memories. "Then how – "

"Listen, I said I'd be fabulous right? Nothing to do with my job. I might even work at a dumpling shop but that will be fine, do you know what I'm saying, Jung Yunho?"

Well honestly, _no_ , but Yunho's got an idea.

* * *

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- hey so you were right.  
>  \- about me, i mean

Changmin's status blinks to busy, to offline, to away, before he signs on again and a reply finally pops up in the window:

> Changdola says:  
>  \- Well,  
>  \- yes.  
>  \- But I shouldn't have put it like that. Sorry.
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- dont worry about it  
>  \- ive always known, you know?  
>  \- i just didn't think itd be that obvious

And to diffuse any remaining tension, Yunho sticks a >____U know Yunho? says:  
\- that (:…  
\- didnt we already establish that

Changdola says:  
\- Shut up.  
\- (:

* * *

On Monday there is an email from a Paris-based magazine. Yunho clicks with suspicion – Changmin's based in Paris and the last time he'd sent him a fake link was to that fuck scary comic with automatic scrolling and _the screaming_ – oh. it’s a legitimate article, in Korean and, ah, written by one Shim Changmin. Scrolling down, he gets it immediately; the leading photograph is a full colour action shot of an old, white haired woman caught mid blackflip. _Breakdancing Grannies_ and the exciting underground scene of amateur dancers who are, by most accounts, as talented as most professionals. Huh.

By the time Yunho's finished reading the entire article, he's grinning wildly, and can't seem to turn it off for the rest of the day. Work in form of his demanding boss ( _my employees are happy now? I must not be working you hard enough hohoho_ , Yunho wonders if he realises he's courting an early death by angry uprising mob) sweeps him away before he can reply but that's fine. A soft edged smile is still left when he's finally home, sprawled across his shoulder, laptop balanced on his knees. Just as he's about to pull up his email, MSN announces that Changmin's online. Perfect!

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- changmin!!!  
>  \- ^_______^
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- what!!!
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- the article!  
>  \- thanks for the link! (:  
>  \- i was glad  
>  \- :D
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- oh.  
>  \- you're welcome.
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- i didnt know you freelance?  
>  \- i didnt know you were into dance?!
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- you babble on about it so often  
>  \- i could write an entire essay  
>  \- proof you talk too much kekekekeke
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- :'(
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- …
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- :'( :'(
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- what.
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- :'( :'( :'(
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- argh fine you can talk!!!!!
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- haha yay permission!  
>  \- i am so honoured  
>  \- seriously though  
>  \- thank you. :)
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- ahhhhh no problem  
>  \- i'll send you anything else i come across??
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- yay! :D
> 
> CHAMI says:  
>  \- but in return you have to stop sending me those stupid cats
> 
> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- not yay! D: 

True to his word, Changmin sends him all sorts of links that break up the monotony of his never ending work hours. Yunho sends him loldogs in return. As it turns out, Changmin is a lot more susceptible to puppies (especially those small white fluffy ones) than cats, so it's a pretty good deal for the both of them.

* * *

At first it's the articles that spur him to the studio he'd once frequented before work had caught up to him, once a week, both days of the weekend, and then suddenly he is there every other day after work. His first competition is at the local community centre, which he wins, but gives the first place cash prize to first runner up, a teenager with a gap-toothed beam of pride.

The most sensible thing to do next is to aim for a regional competition, to further test his skills. (Un?)fortunately, Yunho has never quite been a sensible person.

There's a large poster that's been put up in the hallway outside the dance studio, a stylishly garish advertisement with bright lights frozen in neon streaks and muscular, contorting bodies, and it announces an international dance competition based in Paris. It's more meant as decorations here in this tiny community centre, no one seriously trains around here, not if they have the money to prepare for an audition tape for such a grand competition right? Sure enough, Yunho hasn't seen anyone spare it more attention than cursory glances.

This is totally his excuse when he steals the poster.

Back in his apartment, Yunho tacks it up on the wall right smack in his living room and stares at it once more. As expected, the conditions are not easily met; a hefty payment for registration and an audition tape of such high specifics that it has to be taken with an expensive video camera are required. He goes out and buys the video recorder, buys the proper editing software even, and then, the few thousand dollars paid only a tiny chip in his savings, returns the poster to the hallway. With it, he tapes on a notice [dance hopefuls call this number for use of equipment] and a pad of sticky notes, each with his number on it.

Two teenagers and a twelve year old show up, huddled around each other and glaring suspiciously up at the strange old man offering expensive equipment up for free usage. Beaming with pride, Yunho – well, Yunho calls the parent of the twelve year old because he's responsible and stuff – sets up the recorded in an empty dance studio, then scoots off to a side to watch them work their magic.

They wrap up in two days, grateful for the opportunity.

Yunho wraps up only a week before deadline, shooting off a copy by speed post. His body aches from the weeks of furious dancing, sore throbbing reminders of the effort he's poured into perfecting very little move. Yunho's always been a hard working person by nature, giving his best in everything he does, but this time, this time his best just feels better than all his previous bests, and he's never felt so satisfied. He's barely even nervous as he waits for the results because either way he knows that he'll still keep dancing, and he does, every day after work and where he can afford it.

The days swoosh by and Yunho sees his old friends and colleagues less and less. Heechul has to hunt him down in the studio now, his work efficiency drops from spectacular to above average, but none of this feels like he's running away from his life, as his father suggests during family dinners that grow increasingly strained. 

Rather, Yunho feels like for the first time, he's finally chasing after it.

* * *

When Yunho finally comes to a decision, it is a rush of adrenaline that never ends, it is the sound of wind in his ears as he free-falls, it is the quiet bated breath as he waits to carry it out. It is also an unnerving calmness – _I should have done this years ago_.

Not a week, or a month, Yunho takes the effort to do this properly. Resignation letters have to be drafted, cars and watches and all of his expensively useless things have to be sold, tenants have to be found for the four room apartment he lived alone in. And of course, Yunho times it just so that his parents are away on business when he submits his resignation later. It's all very careful, very deliberate.

It's the most reckless thing he's ever done, and it scares the fuck out of him.

Yunho convinces himself that this isn't absolutely, fucking crazy. When he was a child and his father had let him dance as a hobby, he'd won several competitions. And he has two majors to his degree, one of which is in Performance Arts, top of his school. He can do this. Absolutely. No doubt about it.

That in mind, he starts to plan big.

* * *

> U know Yunho? says:  
>  \- what sort of clothes do you need for winter there?
> 
> cha sama says:  
>  \- ???  
>  \- why do you need to know that?? 

By the end of the month, his apartment has been stripped bare, and he's been mixing up the same three pairs of suits for days now, mix and matching them as much as possible and hoping no one notices. His luggage is set open at the foot of his bed, and everyday he packs and unpacks, enough clothing and necessities to brave the climate in Europe.

As per Changmin's suggestions, Yunho replaces the second of his heavy duty coat with several soft fluffy sweaters. As per Changmin's suggestions, Yunho selects a few more scarves, though he thinks maybe that may be less about necessity and more about Changmin's obsession so excessive that Yunho's noticed it even over the internet. 

Changmin's suggestions for summer are short shorts at uncomfortable lengths. Instead, Yunho picks a few knee length shorts and tries not to feel defeated somehow.

At the end of the month, his apartment is empty and all his worldly possessions fit into three hefty suitcases.

Win or lose, Yunho is not coming back.

* * *

The part where Yunho had thrown away his life and everything it entailed is essentially a giant fuck you to everyone around him. He's abandoned his job and boss and co-workers, and rejected the livelihood that his family had so carefully crafted for him. His friends all think he's crazy. Predictably, only Heechul shows up at the airport to see him off, and even then he doesn't quite approve. He's just the only one who'd manage to track down Yunho's flight schedule after he'd taken so much trouble to hide it.

"You crazy fuck!" With a sharp grin, Heechul nudges Yunho's suitcase with a steel toed boot. "I can't believe you're really doing this shit. Of on a fucking adventure all by yourself? Yoorobong's all grown up now!"

Yunho grins at that; he can't help it. Finally, he is going to do something about his life, finally he is back to chasing his dreams. His palms are sweaty around his passport and plane ticket, and the straps of his huge backpack cuts into his shoulders, but he is ready. Nothing can stop him now.

"When you screw up, you can come stay with me in China," Heechul offers generously.

"Thanks, hyung," Yunho replies, "but I'm not going to screw up."

There is a pause, Heechul holds on to Yunho and studies him, expression unreadable. "No, you're not," he finally declares. "Good luck, kid."

* * *

There isn't much he can do in Paris. He barely speaks the language – grade school English will only get you so far, and his _French_? Hah! – and he isn't even sure if there is anything he can do here. The competition's staff picks up the lot of them from an overcrowded airport, and hustles them to the hotel. They train until late, they wait for their competition slots, they train even harder. There is no time for Yunho to worry about anything else.

The competition is a blur. Like Seoul there is a dithering over his age. Yunho dances like his life depends on it – and it does, he's bet everything on dancing, _everything_ – and his performance is at once satisfying, and not _enough_. Unlike Seoul, it doesn't stop even when he proves his age irrelevant. Insults are spat the same way in any language, and he's had enough business meetings with cocky westerners to know what racial slurs sound like.

In the end, honorary mention for foreign talents is just. Barely passable. Yunho doesn't need to show up for the awards ceremony but he goes anyway, jostles with the sweaty crowd and like them, stares up at the stage where the winners stand bathed in glaring bright lights. First place in foreign talents is third place overall, and Korean. Her delicate wrists and ankles, and the quaint bow of her lips make him nostalgic, the first pride ablaze in her eyes and the defiance of her chin held high makes him ache. She is his age.

Boa-sshi passes him by as she leaves the stadium. She catches his eye and grins at him, fellow Korean, sharp and fiery, a challenge in the cocky quirk of her lips.

Yunho grins back, but it might have been more a baring of teeth. Boa laughs, gives a wave, and then she's gone.

* * *

In the profile at beneath the headers of his writings, there is always a glossy photograph and in it, Changmin is… charmingly awkward. His nose sits awkwardly on a strong jawed face and his ears had stuck out awkwardly the last time he'd cut his hair too short, and his half-quirk smile was classic of any awkward employee forced into picture taking for work.

In real life, in Paris, scenic Eifel Tower in the backdrop, swarmed with by tourists and scowling into his scarf – Changmin is stunning.

"Hey, it's nice to see you," Changmin tries, and sticks his hand out

"Wow, you're uhm – tall." Yunho can't help that his gaze drags up his body. Tall isn't the only thing Changmin is.

"No, just taller than you," Changmin corrects, and then he winces, social skills, manners, right. "I mean, in Europe my height isn't a big deal and. You're tall too? Just. Not. Uhm. "

Changmin is a lot less friendly in person. For all their hundreds of emails exchanged, for all that Yunho had thought they were friends; Changmin treats him as though they are absolute strangers.

"The only reason I came to pick you up," Changmin tells him outright, "is because I feel bad making you give up your job, got it?"

It must be some sort of test, from the way Changmin's staring expectantly at him like that. Yunho swallows and then puts on his best friendly smile. "That's fine, sure, why not?"

Attempts at conversations are so unbelievably silly and stilted. Yunho's never had this problem before but then again, he's never had an internet BFF before. Every topic he pulls up to try and dispel the awkward atmosphere that's settled around their table – job, family, life in general – they've already talked about all this before. After a year, they've already know all of this of each other. They try to talk about Yunho's plans for the future but his stunning lack thereof makes that difficult as well. Finally Yunho laughs, scrubs a hand through his hair. "There's really not much left to talk about, is there, Changminnie?"

"Don't call me that!" Changmin snaps back automatically. He pauses to frown. "Don't call me that, _hyung_ ," he corrects, and then hides behind his oddly large cup of coffee. "I just never thought I'd see you in person."

"Didn't think I would either, but you know what life's like."

"Life," echoes Changmin with a hint of disbelief. "I don't think it's life – " he pauses to grin a beat later, his eyes crinkle unevenly and it's so ridiculously attractive that Yunho feels his breath catch. Changmin carries on without noticing, "Yunho hyung, I don't think it's life that's crazy enough to drop his entire life just to chase dreams." 

"Does this mean I'm larger than life?" Yunho jokes. 

Changmin's little nose scrunch is a lot cuter than the :| emoticons he always uses when Yunho types something equally as lame. Yunho gets distracted a bit before he realises, he was in the middle of talking and Changmin's looking at him expectantly. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do though? With that article of yours, that first one."

"The article? I meant that with societal pressure, it's /understandable/ that – " abruptly, his eyes widen, and he blanches. "Wait, you mean that's why you – ?"

"Yes – no? Hey wait, don't look so guilty!" Yunho reaches over to rub Changmin's shoulder comfortingly, until Changmin turns to stare at his hand. Oh right, real life strangers, he pulls back and occupies his hands with his cup instead. "It wasn't just the article, okay? I'd been unhappy for a while and – this, all of this was a long time coming."

"If you're sure..." 

"Hey look," Yunho tries, "it's like your article was the final push off a cliff, but I was the one who walked to the edge by myself to begin with?"

Confused, Changmin raises an eyebrow. "So you coming over here is akin to falling to your death? It's fall-off-a-cliff bad?" He laughs when Yunho hastily denies this. "Okay, got it, I get it; you should leave the metaphors to the journalist, hyung."

"No problem," Yunho agrees easily. Leaning back, he fixes Changmin with his most charming smile, and is stupidly pleased when Changmin ducks his head shyly in response. No, bad Yunho, this is not what you came here for! "I'm just," Yunho fumbles for words, "I'm just really happy to be here."

"Come stay with me," Changmin offers easily. They may never have met before but there is a year's worth of companionship between them regardless, It's kind of hard to ignore that. "It'll take a while for things to pick up for you, you know that right?"

"Yeah, sure," Yunho replies, except he doesn't, so he picks up his own coffee cup to hide this. It's grown cold without him having touched it. His first sip of coffee makes him splutter, far too bitter than anything he's had in South Korea. 

Laughing, Changmin pushes over the little jug of milk. "You have no idea what you're in for," Changmin declares.

Yunho smiles, sharp. "No, I guess I do not."

* * *

Yunho doesn't realise until the second week that he'd not quite finished thinking this while 'new life' plan through, and by then his nerves have been shot to death.

He hates Changmin the most, for some inexplicable reason. The man's been nothing but helpful, loaning him his couch, leaving out his old English and French textbooks for Yunho to peruse in his spare time. It must be the little things that get to him then. Despite finally meeting him in person, they're back to trading messages before the weekend is over. Changmin leaves little post it notes all over the house, _my food don't eat, keys in drawers, laundry in shoot or trash!!!!!_ and Yunho scrawls his replies on the same piece.

It pisses him off.

But there are more important things to focus on, agencies to beg, directors to impress and – English to polish up on, French to learn. There are no slots for Asian dancers past the token minority or 'kung fu' master. Yunho knows Hapkido and that's good enough because they can't tell the difference anyway. If there is no place for his type here, there is even less for someone who has yet to grasp the language. By and large, Yunho's beginning to realise that he's fucked.

After two weeks, Yunho gets a tiny stage in a bar, he makes his earning in tips. Kung fu, Hapkido, all the same to them, so they're easily impressed. Mostly though, he earns more money winking and strip teasing than dancing. Quitting is probably a mistake, but he does so anyway, and is promptly replaced by a sweet Chinese girl with impossible flexibility.

He moves on, he moves on, he moves on.

* * *

At first he thinks that it's because this is a real life person with real life quirks, which he hadn't realized an internet username would have. Then he realizes that no, there are traits that he would have forgiven in anyone else – Heechul, for one, is so much more annoying on so many more levels – and they didn't actually bother him at all.

He is, however, half right. It isn't the real life quirks but the fact that Changmin is a real life person and that bothers him. It pisses him off that he'd made such a grave decision over the words of someone who is as human and as flawed as he is. Changmin is insecure. Changmin doesn't always – often, but not always – follow the same ideals he'd lead Yunho to chase.

"It's the internet, what do you expect?" Changmin frowns at him. His shoulders curve and his back hunches. He's folding into himself defensively; it is a flaw Yunho had not expected of him.

"You're a liar," he replies, he laughs, a bit hollow. "But you're a journalist, I bet you're good at that right? I can't believe I – _believed_ you."

Lips pressed against the rim of the bottle, Changmin watches him carefully. Laughing means he's joking right? It doesn't sound like a joke. "And _I_ can't believe you listened to some asshat on the internet."

A beer can crumples loudly in Yunho's grip. He's chuckling again, no bloody clue why, maybe it's all he can do now.

"Maybe you didn't believe me, but you wanted to." Changmin pushes against the wall until he can stand, and stumbles towards his room. "Maybe you just used me as a fucking excuse to escape your shithole job."

The doorknob finally turns under his fumbling fingers, and Changmin pitches forward. He catches himself just in time and shoots him a glare. "Stop blaming everyone but yourself."

The door slams shut and then a beer bottle shatters next to it. Yunho slumps back against the wall and buries his face in his hand.

* * *

It makes him feel humiliated, like he's been a coward his whole fucking life – still is – but fuck all that, Yunho wakes up I the morning and decides that Changmin is right. With a groan, he clambers to his feet. When he makes it to the kitchen, the first thing he does is to stick his head into the sink and turn on the tap. The cold flush works well enough against the pounding against his skull.

Yunho realizes where he'd made a mistake. He hadn't fallen in love with Changmin. He'd fallen in love with the _concept_ of Changmin, a symbol of freedom and of chasing dreams, rather than a real person. And Changmin is a real person; he is tall and handsome and his convictions are as strong as they ever were, but he is also quiet and introverted and severe. He is human. This is Yunho's fault, and then reality comes crashing down on him. Well, it's what he'd wanted, so Yunho grits his teeth and begins to look for a job.

Turning his head, he takes large gulps to rid of the cotton dryness in his mouth. When he straightens, the top half of his t-shirt is drenched and the headache is still gnawing away at his temple, but there is a new clarity to his vision and that's good enough.

Changmin's door is still closed and the broken glass remains undisturbed. Yunho cuts his palm open cleaning it up but that's fine too, better him then well, anyone else.

Before he leaves, he draws the curtains to dim the room and sticky-notes a brief message to Changmin's door.

Well then. Time to get to work.

* * *

Changmin, on the other hand, wakes up around one but doesn't manage to leave his room until four. First reason, he is hung over and has a headache the size of his face. Secondly, there's a bottle of aspirin and can of coffee on his bedside table. Third – there might be a psychopath outside his door.

Briefly, Changmin considers smothering himself. There is a reason, he remembers with a groan, why he doesn't drink with strangers. Alcohol makes him extreme. Happy Changmin is a giggly and delirious Changmin. Sad Changmin had a waterworks problem. Angry Changmin can't keep his damned mouth shut and, apparently, ripped jobless, homeless people to shreds.

When he finally stumbles out of his room – oh, the curtains are drawn, no piercing rays of light, how nice – the living room is empty. Belatedly, he jumps away from his doorway, but there is no cutting pain in the sole of his feet. Oh, the broken glass has been cleared too. That's nice.

Changmin comes to a standstill in the middle of an empty living room. He doesn't quite know what to do.

* * *

Days pass without a single lead. Yunho starts with the dance academy near his motel, then branches out east, paying visit to any small studio in the area. No luck; no one needs nor wants a grown man incapable of speaking their language. It isn't just that his languages are lousy, there's a certain body type and frame that dancers seem to require here, and Yunho simply does not have it. He is big, and he is tall, much more than any of the small, lithe Asians he had seen in the studios, if there had been any Asians at all.

He'd known this would happen, his first competition in Paris still fresh in his mind, but it stings. Reluctantly, he turns away from these studios, and the next day, goes down a different road. The farther west he heads, the closer he returns to Changmin's apartment. He must have horrible luck, because the last studio he visits today (the sun has set, shops and businesses alike and beginning to close) is only five blocks away. He enters with trepidation.

It's the same dancer he'd met in London, the petite girl with liquid passion rushing through each and every of her dance moves. She recognises him too, judging from the way she quirks a curious eyebrow in his direction.

"Hi," Yunho greets her nervously. English is too thick and clumsy on his tongue, but he tries anyway. "You – you remember me? In March? The dance contest!"

"Yes, I do," she replies in Korean. She chuckles at his sigh of relief. "Another Korean in a European dance competition? Of course I'd pay attention. So what are you doing here?

"I'm looking for a job, actually."

Her expression dims.

"You'll be a gimmick, you know that right?" Boa presses her lips thin. "The token minority dance teacher. They won't take you seriously."

"I know, I believe you," and Yunho does, because he can see clear as day the defiance in Boa's ruler straight posture, calluses on her hands, the steely set of her jaw. It can't have been easy, to get to where she is. "But everyone has to start somewhere, right? I just need a chance to show them what I can do."

For a long time, Boa simply watches him. Finally, she sighs. "Do you at least speak French?"

"Uhm." Yunho winces. "Oui?"

"You are so lucky this is a small international school!" Boa socks him hard in the arm. "I'll get you an audition. Come back tomorrow."

A week later, he's got a job.

* * *

In the next few days, Changmin forgets about Yunho with a stubbornness that can only be borne from constant reminder not to think about him. There is nothing for it; Changmin throws himself into his work and attempts to drown. The pieces he manages to churn out are too strongly opinionated, so to escape the wrath of his editors, he buries himself in research instead.

To be honest, Changmin doesn't quite know how his write up of the sciences of yogurt fermentation or the long history of quilts will ever be useful to him, but it's nice to know he has all this information ready if he needs it. Probably.

The first week passes without much fanfare. His column piece needs revision so he gets right on that, remembers to stop himself from ordering for two, stays up late watching his embarrassing rom com movies with the volume as high as possible before the neighbours complain.

The second week passes in staunch protest. There is no way Yunho had gone out into the cruel world and died or anything, and even if he did, it's in no way Changmin's fault!

In the third week, one hazy Wednesday night, Yunho shows up at his door.

* * *

In parts stunned and relieved and massively confused, Changmin doesn't know what to do but gawk at the man on his doorstep.

Yunho smiles at him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "H–hello!"

"Hey." Changmin blinks owlishly. "You're not dead."

"I guess not? Hey, don't look so disappointed!"

Disappointed isn't quite what Changmin's feeling. Lucky the man's somewhat dim when it comes to these matters; Changmin hurries to wipe his expression clean and, before he realises what he's doing, moves to a side to let Yunho in.

To say that it's awkward would be a massive understatement. Yunho's not carrying anything, just a thin plastic file of papers, and his wallet and phone bulging in his trouser pocket. Changmin tries to squint around him, but his luggage and belongings are nowhere to be found.

"What are you –"

"Look, before anything, I need to apologise for what I did, you know, before I left." Yunho palms the back of his neck nervously. "And before that too, I was confused and frustrated and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, after all you've done for me, so. I'm sorry."

"… Oh. Okay." His mouth opens and closes a few times but that's all Changmin's got. He waits.

"So I got a job," Yunho starts, "and they needed a permanent address so I went and rented a place, but that place needed an address of a permanently staying resident before it can rent it to me and. And I just need you to sign these?"

"You can't be serious," Changmin says, staring down at the offending documents on the table. "That is – wow. I didn’t know shit cubicles sold for so much."

"It's an apartment," replies Yunho, scowling. When Changmin refuses to take the pen shoved at him, he has to resort to prying his fingers apart with both hands. "Stop being such a brat! Will you just sign the damned thing?!"

"But it's a pathetic place! In the red light district!" He squirms away easily, ducks his head like he is thinking hard, conflicted. "Look, it you're only willing to shell out so little for rent, then wouldn't it be better to rent a room? From someone who knows your situation and how to speak your language? Whose house is near the dance academy?"

Head cocked to a side, Yunho fixes Changmin with a stare. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying – _you know_." Changmin clicks his tongue in frustration, slowly edging away until his hip hits the table. "I have a spare room, and I wouldn't mind the rent money. Since you're getting a job and everything, I guess you're serious about this, not just fucking crazy –" suddenly his arms are full. "– and obnoxiously prone to hugs, _argh_ get off me!"

"Changmin," Yunho begins, then falters. He settles for grinning, so wide it pushes his cheeks impossibly high. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Changmin grumbles, scratching his head. "Rent and deposit's due, by the way, and just, don't make me regret it all right?"

If Changmin's face is uncomfortable red, Yunho doesn't mention it. "Thank you," he says again, "I promise, you won't."

* * *

Hip braced against his doorway, Changmin watches as Yunho unpacks. It'd originally been a spacious store closet, turned into a small study, and now it shall be a miniscule bedroom. Yunho doesn't seem to mind. He is cheerful as he slots his three paperbacks in with the rest of Changmin's books, he whistles as he stacks his clothes and the rest of his belongings onto the desk. There isn't any other furniture in the room so Yunho's 'bed' is a mattress propped up against the wall. Still, he seems satisfied. He straightens, brushes the dust of his trousers, then grins at Changmin.

"Hey, thank you."

The earnestness in his voice sort of burns; Changmin squirms and stares resolutely at his feet. "You're welcome, no problem, I'd space to spare anyway."

"Hey, I know!" Yunho lights up. "I've got a mini performance at the end of my first class to, you know, show the parents that I'm actually qualified. You should come watch me dance! "

For some reason, this has warning bells ringing at the back of his head. But Yunho dancing? No way Changmin's going to miss that. "… I guess it'll be fun."

"Great!" Yunho beams.

* * *

The kids are all varying shades of cute, their parents range from friendly to snobbish, and every last one of them watches Yunho perform in awed silence. This makes Changmin feel better when he gets absolutely distracted by the pair of Japanese twins who have commandeered his lap, and their younger sister who has her arm pressed against his. The twins are cute, the sister more so, but they're young and fidgety and it's hard to pay attention when one of them keeps trying to climb him, no matter how spectacular Yunho is performing.

And to be honest he's just downright distracted by the pretty young thing that is Yunho's predecessor. Boa catches him staring once and he attempts a small smile. With an unimpressed snort, Boa arches an eyebrow at him and jerks her chin towards Yunho. Whoops, right, now he feels like an ass; he dips his chin in apology and turns back to Yunho – just in time to catch the cheeky smirk Yunho tosses at him before he's back to pop and locking again.

Everything goes accordingly to plan, the parents are suitably impressed, the children are excited by their giant, Asian dance teacher, and Boa knows her class is in good hands. As for Changmin, well, he supposes it's not a bad way to spend his off day after all.

* * *

With the showcase done with, Changmin’s already more than satisfied but it’s the after show that gets him in the end.

Yunho is in charge of locking up now that this is in parts his studio, so there is only him and Changmin, belly-aching about the celebration dinner he’d been promised.

"You’re such a jerk," Yunho tells him brightly. "Don’t ruin this for me, Changdola, shhhh!"

The stereo blares a fast paced pop song neither of them know. Yunho recognises that popular, upbeat rhythm and it’s enough for a bit of a freestyle to loosen up. Despite his stomach, Changmin finds himself leaning back and okay, he’s got time, he may as well check out the dancer he’d put up in his house, out of the kindness of his heart.

Besides, Yunho is a feast all on his own, toned body writhing to the beat, Changmin doesn’t really understand this dance business but he can at least appreciate this, smooth moves and gravity defying break dancing and then his t-shirt rides up and okay, now Changmin’s paying attention.

The more he watches, the more claustrophobic the feels. The room is large but it must be something about the mirrors that provides him with multiples of Yunho at every angle, the faint wisp of sweat in the air suddenly sharp and heady, the heavy thumps of bass follows the throbbing of his blood. He doesn’t know what a sight he must make, eyes wide, mouth agape and just maybe, watering slightly, but Yunho catches sight of him and grins, a little bit like pride.

Without children watching, Yunho's dancing turns slick, liquid sex rolling off his writhing form in heated waves. Changmin's breath is caught at every smooth roll of his hips. There's always something about Yunho that leaves Changmin speechless, and this time it is the sparks of arousal threading through his veins. He wants, and he's aching all of a sudden, and he can't stop himself at all.

Changmin doesn't notice himself standing until he's taken a step forward and there's no turning back at this point. He stumbles closer and closer until Yunho has to skitter back to prevent smacking him in the face as he dances.

"Watch it, Changminnie!" he laughs, stepping out of reach, "do you want to join me? Won't you dance with me, Changmin-ah?"

It's the sly curl of his tongue as he says it that does Changmin in. Never mind that it probably wasn't intentional, Changmin reaches out and twists his fingers into his singlet to drag him closer. Yunho makes a little noise of surprise against his mouth and Changmin, heart hammering, too much blood rushing south to think straight, just pushes harder into the kiss because this might be the only chance he gets so he wants this to last as long as possible – the lushness of his mouth, sweat and mush that is uniquely Yunho. 

Lack of oxygen forces him to pull back and regret smacks into him before he even takes a breath. He gasps, apologies spilling from his lips and – Yunho crowds into him, pressing him back against the mirror. Changmin swallows, can't look away, can't hide the dark streak of lust in his eyes.

"If it's sex you want," Yunho says, straight to point, "then we should – "

"Get back, okay, go, _now_!" Changmin's aware that he sounds super horny right now (which he is) but Yunho only grabs his things, takes his hand and pulls him out of the door. Changmin laughs, high, and he catches Yunho's grin as he leads them away.

* * *

Sex starts in the studio and ends in Changmin's bed. Greedy, Changmin pushes him back against the headboard and sinks down onto his cock, whimpering as he is spread open again. More, he wants more, braces his hands on Yunho's shoulders and hoists himself up, drops himself down, fucking himself over and over in Yunho's lap until his legs grow weak. He falters, wailing in frustration, and then Yunho takes over, planting his feet on the mattress and heaves up. He rolls his hips – god can he roll his hip – and Changmin mewls desperately, bouncing in his lap to meet his every thrust.

"Why the fuck," he gasps, pleasure sizzling through him, "didn't you do that earlier?"

"Oh, you can still talk?" Yunho says, disappointed, and then he remedies that by fastening his mouth to Changmin's neck, suckling marks into his skin.

Yunho hisses as he comes deep inside of him, and Changmin's the one who moans loud, jacking off more desperate than before. He needs to come right now, so fucking close, and then Yunho's hands are on his ass, lifting him up. Changmin follows and kneels, and then he keens when Yunho slurps his cock into his mouth. Unable to stop himself, Changmin jerks weakly into that hot, wet suction, once, twice, and then orgasm rips through him and he empties into Yunho's mouth.

His legs give out, collapsing back into Yunho's lap. Yunho oofs and shifts him around in his lap, strokes his sides until he's down from his high, pliant and sated.

"So that was – " 

Yunho's voice at his ear trails off, and with a groan, Changmin hefts himself up to pout at him. "Sex?" he suggests, arching an unimpressed eyebrow.

Yunho does this eyebrow thing too, where his wriggle in confusion. He's so obviously struggling for a tact way to say whatever it is he wants too, and it's sort of adorable. " _Just_ sex?" he asks finally.

Affixing a frown, Changmin makes another purposely obtuse guess: "Pretty fucking awesome sex?"

That gets him a sulk, lower lip jutting out before Yunho turns serious. "No, really, I'm not ready for a – "

"Yeah," Changmin cuts in quickly. "I know, it was just sex, it can just be sex, anything you want," and that sounds strangely honest to himself, not quite as flippant as he expected, uh oh – but for now Changmin swallows it down and adds, "It can be a friends with benefits sort of thing."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, sure, learned how to in Paris. City of love and all that." Changmin waves his hand, pretending that this blatant lie is just a joke. He hasn't learnt much of anything at all. "Can _you_?"

"Of course, yes, no problem." Yunho pauses, watches him blankly. Changmin pulls a face at him and he chuckles. "So. Pretty fucking _awesome_ 'benefits' huh?"

"Ugh, don't get cocky, it takes two to fuck!" When Yunho pats his thigh, Changmin scoffs and rolls out from under his hand. This lands him on his stomach so Yunho pats his ass instead. "Hey, stop that," he grumbles, kicking out blindly. There is a pained grunt above him. "Hah! Now shoo, I'm gross and I need to shower. He makes a few abortive attempts at moving and gives up. "Okay, you go first. Don't use up all the hot water!"

"Got it," Yunho sing songs, fetching his clothes off the floor as he goes.

For a moment, Changmin lies there, catergorising all the aches scattered across his body, tastes salt in his mouth, squirms at the wet soreness of his ass. Everything is as he expected, except this treacherous unsettling of his heart, not overt but present nonetheless. Dragging his pillow towards him, Changmin buries his face in it and lets out a muffled scream.

He is so fucked.

* * *

The perks of sleeping with a dancer must far outnumber the perks of sleeping with a journalist. Changmin can't figure how he's gotten so lucky but the next time, Yunho lets him fuck him into the couch, folded nearly in half, ankles hooked over Changmin's shoulders, and he can't bring himself to complain.

If Changmin is honest with himself, this might be dumbest thing he's done in a long time.

As much as he tries to put it out of mind, it weighs heavily above him, a thundercloud threatening to drench him. Sometimes they have sex, and Changmin never asks any more of him after he has pulled out, sticky and sated. Sometimes they don't, but Yunho ends up in Changmin's bed anyway, spread out haphazardly, limbs flung over each other. 

When they're not fucking, everything is as perfect as Changmin would have imagined living with a messy, disorganise person with _hyung tendencies_ would be like. Yunho has always been a bit crazy, Changmin knows that. What he hadn’t expected is for it to be so utterly charming in real life. Yunho… is more vibrant than he'd ever expected from an office worker. And Changmin knows this.

"That's not fair," Changmin says quietly, "putting me on a pedestal like that. Yunho hyung, I'm not who you think I am, there's no such person…" He falters, chin dipping, mouth slanted sadly. "I don't stand a chance, do I?" 

Yunho rolls over, snuffing in his sleep. "Did you say something, Changminnie?" 

Staring up at the ceiling, Changmin replies, "No, you must have been dreaming," and then leaves it at that.

* * *

Teaching his first class of the day – his life – paints the brightest grin across Yunho's face, and it stains for the rest of the week. He's always been fond of children, and dancing, so the two together is giddying. He comes home, heart light, and practically skips through the door.

The magazine is waiting for him on his desk when he comes back, atop his highest stack of clothing. Yunho stares down at its unfamiliar glossy cover, flips through the clean pages, and stumbles into a headline he'd once spent days staring at.

Yunho rushes out of the room, skids to a stop in the living room, right where Changmin is sitting. Changmin doesn't look at him, only wrinkles his nose in annoyance.

"Hyung, you're blocking the…" As he spots the magazine, he falls silent. There is the start of a squirm, before he visibly restrains himself, fists clenching against the material of his couch. He eyes Yunho with suspicion, as the older man rocks on his heels, grinning. "What? What's got you so excited? It's just a magazine."

At that, Yunho shakes his head furiously, grin never dimming. "Not any magazine," he insists, " _the_ magazine, with _The Article_! Where did you even get this?!"

"I'm the author, duh I'd have the copy." Shrugging, Changmin feigns indifference. "I found while clearing out my desk, just thought you might like it, that's all."

Words escape him and without them, Yunho flails his arms and ends up doing some sort of awkward shuffle. When Changmin laughs, Yunho's little jig turns into a full blown dance.

"Crazy," Changmin tells him, eyes bright. He applauds when Yunho twirls into a finish, and bows.

"You make me this way!" Unmindful of how Changmin flushes, Yunho flops down next to him on the couch, out of breath. His hand on Changmin's knee only deepens the heat in his cheeks, but Yunho's gaze is off into the distance, unseeing.

"I like to think that this article changed my life," Yunho tries, tests the words and listens to how they echo. "Well, no, mostly you did, but this article - you did a really good job, you know? I didn't know… you put into words what I hadn't realized was happening inside me. It was a wake up call, so. Thank you."

A sheepish smile quirks at the corner of Changmin's lips, and he has to duck his head to hide his face, only to realize that his ears are heating up. Yunho takes one look at him and chuckles, gives his knee a pat and then slings his arm around his shoulders.

"I wanted to sing," Changmin blurts out instead. Immediately he clams up – what a strange, untimely confession – and tries to sink further into the couch. Distinctly aware of Yunho's gaze upon him, he forces himself to continue, "not that I'm not happy where I am now but, I wanted to be a singer when I was a kid, but there was no one to – but _I_ never made that leap of fate so. Discarded dreams, right? I sort of get that feeling."

And then it is quiet. Yunho watches as Changmin stares at his knees. The arm around his shoulder shifts, and then Yunho's fingertips are pressing into Changmin's chin, coaxing his head around. Changmin turns his head willingly, he's mostly aware of what is going to happen next, but it still manages to catch him by surprise.

Yunho kisses him, cautiously at first, a gentle peck to the corner of his mouth. He pulls back, pushes Yunho gently away.

"Wow, okay, that was not – I did not know that that was a pickup line because –" Changmin swallows, "– that wasn't really what I was going for but okay, okay, I can work with that, awesome, oh my god someone shut me up."

Most of that flies over Yunho's head but he does manage to catch that last bit. Proving himself shockingly clichéd, Yunho crawls back in Changmin's personal space and kisses him again, no holding back this time. He licks back into Changmin's mouth, eager, kissing him until he absolutely has to pull back for lack of oxygen.

"Not what I meant!" Changmin squeaks. Yunho takes the opportunity to nose behind his ear and trail wet kisses down the side of his neck. It sets of a blaze under Changmin's skin, hot and tingling, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from moaning.

"If I stop," Yunho mumbles into the tender hollow of his throat, "will you sing for me?"

" _What_?" Suddenly, Changmin is a bright red flurry of actions, slapping away wandering hands and scooting away from Yunho, cushion hugged to his chest. On second thought, he slides the cushion into his lap instead, and glares at Yunho's chin, unable to meet his eyes. "No, _no_ I will not and you are going to stop anyway!"

A particularly hard shove to the stomach has Yunho tumbling off the sofa with an 'oof'. In a second, he is back on his feet, turning to Changmin with a nasty smirk on his – a cushion smacks him in the face.

"Ow! Changmin!"

"Go, shoo, leave me alone!"

* * *

Once in a while, when his assignments are piling up, Changmin freaks the fuck out.

Sometimes Changmin does this thing where it's his first time being published in so-and-so magazine, or he writes a piece that threatens to topple into too raw truths for media, or he's the first one who dares write objectively about that boyband with and it's scandalous pity fest, and freaks the fuck out. Yunho learns to read the little tricks that Changmin picks up days before his articles hit the stands – it's not hard, as they accumulate mainly in Changmin shouting at him for leaving the toothpaste uncapped, or trying to burn their taste buds off with spicier than usual Devil Sauce – and as the nice, polite, 'whoops I'm at the airport and going to crash at your place for an undetermined period of time' house guest he is, takes it upon himself to help Changmin relax and de-stress.

His great master plans mainly accumulate in walks.

Tomorrow's release has his article comparing disgraced idol boys to geese, and he will stand by his word, but his editor is a fan so...

Today, bright and early Thursday, Yunho declares, "We are going to see the Eiffel Tower!"

This has Changmin stunned. "Why on Earth would you want to do that?"

"Isn't that what foreigners do in Paris? I've been here for more than half a year, it's ridiculous that I've not gone and seen it yet."

Mouth twisted in disdain, Changmin tells him, "Tourists, pah! There are so many other parts of Paris you could be enjoying, but you want to visit tourist hotspots?!"

Because Changmin's been here so much longer, Yunho gives him and lets him choose their outings. Sometimes they go out for walks in the park, and if Boa has a show nearby, they buy an extra large buquet of flowers to embarrass her with. When Changmin needs to vent, even though he's leading the way, they end up circling their street several times before collapsing onto a bench a black away from home. Soon, Yunho finds out that the parts that Changmin's referring to are mostly cafes, but Yunho has to admit, they are very pleasant indeed.

“When I first came here,” Changmin mumbles, a hand over his mouth because he wants to talk, but he can't stop devouring his fruit tart either, “I ate my way through our district of Paris.”

“Uhm,” says Yunho, his croissant hovering before his mouth as he watches Changmin in awe. “Okay?”

Changmin snatches it from him, takes an enormous bite, and hands it back. “I didn't have stable work yet so I took me more than a year to find all the good stuff.”

“Is this the stress eating that you told me about?” Yunho asks, spearing a choux pastry before Changmin can finish it all of them. 

“But this time, we have not one but two steady pay checks," Changmin carries on, as though he hasn't heard a thing Yunho has said. It must have something to do with the manic glint in his eyes. "This time, we shall eat _everything_."

Once again, Yunho has no idea what he's gotten himself into. And then Changmin looks up sheepishly, a smidgen of cream smeared at the corner of his mouth, and nudges the platter of tarts towards him. Yunho finds that he's ready for whatever is next to come.

* * *

In the middle of the movie, Yunho notices that Changmin's slipped into his personal space a while ago, head comfortable cradled in his lap. Upon this realisation, Yunho's next one is that he is arching downwards without noticing, dipping until he can mouth at the shell of Changmin's ear. Startled, Changmin jerks, then relaxes again, and tilts his head for an open mouthed kiss. It's hot and wet and _sweet_ – Yunho pulls back suddenly, eyes wide.

"Is this a relationship?"

Changmin stares up at him, lips reddened and damp. "Really? You're asking that now? _Really_?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, and for a second Yunho panics, he isn't sure what they have but he'd rather liked it and if it ended here because of his stupid fat mouth… and then Changmin rolls around on his lap and buries his face into Yunho's stomach. Changmin groans again, so much more distracting now that Yunho can feel hot breath through the fabric of his shirt, but there are more important matters at hand.

"Is that a yes?' He frowns as Changmin mumbles into his stomach. "I can't tell if that's a yes."

Reluctantly, Changmin rolls back around. "… Do you want it to be a yes?"

"I don't know yet." He winces at the flash of hurt and disappointment across Changmin's face. It is brief, and then Changmin is back to regarding him calmly, but still. Yunho's never known himself to be cruel, and this is what he must be, leading Changmin on like that, except it doesn't feel that way at all. "Sorry, I know you want - but I can't, I won't to lie to you, Changmin. I just came here, and I've got a new job, and life is hectic right now. I don't - I can't start a serious relationship right now. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Okay." Sitting up, Changmin runs a hand through his hair. "You do realise that I _like_ you, right? And I'm going to do my best to continue –" despite the blush rising high on his cheeks, he waves a hand, a careless gestures, "– _this_?" 

Yunho chews on his lower lip. "… Yeah, I do."

Changmin grins and drops back down into his lap. He turns back to his stomach, but this time, yanks the hem of his shirt up and drags his tongue wetly across all that exposed skin.

This time Yunho does moan, hips canting upwards as Changmin sucks a hickey just above the waistband of his boxers.

* * *

As Yunho enters the living room, Changmin makes to look up at him, but his gaze catches on Yunho's hands as they settle against the coffee table. With a snort he looks back down at his papers again. "And what on Earth are those?" he asks.

"Friendship bracelets!" Yunho laughs as Changmin shoots him a disbelieving glance. He untangles the lot and lays them straight on the table. They're plaits of multi-coloured string – pink centric! – and long enough to fit a child's wrist, which means they go around three quarters of Yunho's wrists at most. "Some of the girls in my afternoon class gave them to me, you should have seen their faces when they realized that they were too small for me." He attempts the sad, wide-eyed pout that little children are so good at; Changmin glances up far enough to spot a wibbling lower lip, then looks down again hurriedly. It's a bad - no, it's entirely _too good_ a look on Yunho. "I had to convince them they were fashion statements."

That gets a laugh out of Changmin, eyes glinting like he's remembering what Yunho's fashion statements are like. Hah. "I suppose you're actually going to wear them?"

Nodding, Yunho pushed them towards him and then holds his hand out expectantly.

"Of course, you are." As he sighs, Changmin picks up a diamond patterned bracelet and manages to loop it around Yunho's pointer, middle and ring finger, close enough to his knuckles that they shouldn't hinder movement. "No wonder your class loves you."

Yunho gives him an eye-crinkled smile in thanks. "They're a good bunch," he replies, passing around another bracelet. This one gets looped around his pinky as well. "I like teaching them. I like teaching in general, I think, that I can help someone else learn the joys of dancing. It's fun."

"I guess if dancing professionally doesn't work out," says Changmin because he is realistic like that, "then at least you'd have a prosperous dance teacher career."

There is a pause, wherein Changmin fumbles for the right way to take that back. Yunho watches his finish, thoughtful.

"True, but that's hardly satisfying." With a roll of his shoulders, Yunho stretches out, making grabby hands at Changmin just because he can. "Even if I never make it, I want to say I tried."

Changmin hasn't let go, and he stroke a thumb across the delicate underside of Yunho's wrist. "I'll believe in you," he mumbles, staring hard at his wrist and nothing else, "no matter what you end up doing, you know that, right?"

Yunho grins. He pulls out of Changmin's grasp to wrap his arm around his shoulder, leaning down instead, pressing his mouth to Changmin's temple. As he pulls back, the document in Changmin's hand crumples abruptly and Changmin ducks his head to let his fringe hide his face.

"Well, I have to head out now," Yunho chirps, beaming. "See you tonight, Changdola!"

As Yunho leaves, Changmin groans and thunks his head down onto the table in resignation, cheeks hot.

* * *

In December, Yunho revisits his days of dancing so furiously that he is constantly on the edge of collapse. It's even worse now that he hasn't an office cubicle to retire to, and plush cushioned chair to plant his tired ass in, but a job that has him on his feet and dancing again. He feels guilty for the way he begins to space out during his classes, but his kids are so sweet with their badly concealed concern and their newfound determination to perfect all the choreography that poor, exhausted Mr. Jung is trying to teach them. In return, Yunho pulls himself back to teaching them the best he can, and after the showcase, promises to make it up to them.

Each day Yunho stumbles home, a little more sore than the day before and, Changmin is a godsend, equipped with hot take out and warm back rubs (that even make up for all of his concerned nagging). He'll have to make it up to him after this. For now, there is no stopping. His moves must be perfect, his routine must be perfect, he must be perfect.

The event itself is anticlimactic. The car ride home is quiet. Beside him, Changmin worries at his bottom lip, but can't find the words.

"Hey," Yunho says suddenly, "did you know I've been here a year already, and I've never been to the Eiffel Tower? "

Changmin spares him a glance, and in the split second manages to convey a perfectly constructed disdain, before focusing back on the road. "Don't tell me you want to – "

"I want to!" When Yunho grins, it is reflected back in the window as an awkward grimace against a pitch-black night sky. He stops.

"Now?" Changmin demands, so incredulous that he almost misses their exit to the street homeward bound. "You want to go _now_? Really?"

"Well. Yes?"

Red light; the car slows and Changmin swivels in his seat. Yunho's gotten rid of that uncomfortable smile already but there must be something left on his face, because Changmin sighs after a moment, and concedes.

"It's almost the second Thursday of the month –" that's their appointed grocery shopping day "– if you want, we can go to that minimart down on fifth street."

The store is white lit and empty, save for the teenager behind the register.

Yunho knows without the slightest of doubts that this must be his best performance yet. Yunho also knows that his was not the best performance of the night. The other instructors have been dancing since they were young, with a stubborn certainty that they would dance for the rest of their lives. Yunho did not.

It has to do with growing up into a job he hated, losing years of practice, and though not entirely by choice, a lack of dedication as well. He is good, but not the best, so not good enough for his old childhood aspirations.

Ah, Yunho wonders when the heartache of crushed dreams will sink in.

In the frozen produce section, Yunho shuffles up and presses himself to Changmin's back. Changmin squawks, and drops the pack of chicken nuggets he'd been holding.

"What are you doing?" he hisses.

"Waiting for it to hurt," Yunho replies simply, and that gets Changmin to stop squirming.

"You're hurt? What does it feel like?"

"Disappointment."

Changmin goes from panicked to relieved to worried in a matter of seconds. He shimmies around so that they are face to face, and after a quick glance around, tugs Yunho into a giant hug. Warm breath puffs against his neck. 

"I'm fine," he says, puts on his most charming smile when Changmin leans back to look suspiciously at him. "I mean, I thought I wouldn't be, but I am."

Changmin studies him intently. Satisfied with what he finds, he – flushes the brightest crimson that Yunho has ever seen. Yunho laughs, it can't be helped. He laughs and laughs until a bag of frozen peas smacks him right in the face.

"Hey!" he cries, staggering back, "Changmin, no violence! I'm already sore!"

"Frozen peas are good for bruises," Changmin tells him brightly. "Good for all those booboos poor widdle Yunho's got."

With a shout of indignation, Yunho pounces.

They get thrown out of the minimart fifteen minutes later.

* * *

His excuses for kissing Changmin are exchanged for excuses for making out with Changmin, and then those are swapped with excuses for grinding their crotches together in the dark of the night, until Changmin is hot and hard and greedy beneath him.

But it can't be helped, it's not his doing, it's absolutely not his fault that Changmin's is soft and pliant when he is fresh out of the shower after a long day's work, and wants nothing more than to distract Yunho from his sore muscles (by making them sorer, by somehow, this works out).

It's kind of his fault that he slips into Changmin's bed some nights, mouthing below his ear not sexually but oh so sweetly, _can I sleep here tonight? It's more comfortable_ , because he's the one that's supposed to get a real bed to replace his mattress, but there just hasn't been enough time and it really _is_ more comfortable and…

What was his point again?

Speak of the devil, the front door opens just then, and Changmin appears, slouched and grumpy. It's strange, the tingling at his fingertips when Changmin spots him and lights up in that slight, sheepish manner where he ducks his head and tries to hide it. He takes the meandering route to Yunho, shedding his coat and backpack on the rack and by his bed, into the bathroom to wash his face, and then finally, stumbles back into the living room. With a groan, he sinks down into the couch and curls up into a ball, close enough that – ah, Yunho slips an arm around his shoulders, and pulls him in easily.

"Rough day?" Yunho stifles his laughter as Changmin mutters darkly into his sweater. "Okay, how about you rest a bit, then we go grab dinner at that Chinese place you like so much?"

"You are my favourite," Changmin declares. He might have sounded a bit reverent.

At the door, Changmin halts suddenly, and stumbles back into the apartment with his socks on. He returns with a scarf in hand, that long dark red one he's so fond of, and loops it around Yunho's neck, muttering darkly under his breath, _you just recovered from your cold, dumbass_

"Huh." Yunho blinks down at him best he can as Changmin fixes his scarf. "I might be running out of excuses soon."

"What was that?"

Well, it's not like he has to know just yet. His heart set, Yunho finds it a lot easier to lean forward and still a kiss. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

* * *

Against everything his stern businessman image had stood for, Yunho knows that he's a romantic at heart. Flowers and heart shaped balloons and candlelit dinners; everything, he gleefully buys into the whole shebang. Paris is supposed to worsen this condition of his, but for once in his life, he is lost.

At the very least, the apartment is his for the week.

He's got his hands full with choreography his kids' latest dance, and there is paperwork to be completed as the old term ends and the new one begins. And he should really start fixing up the place after last week's break in, maybe buy another television set and DVD player, maybe the microwave. Changmin had only stayed for a furious two days before he had to fly off for a press conference, so Yunho doesn't know yet what Changmin will miss the most. Small things though, small things he can manage. Nothing wrong with a little splurging now that's he's got a secure job and his savings from Korea are still pretty hefty.

Yunho spends half his time sweating out in the dance studio and he other half walking through all sorts of furniture malls and shopping centres in their area. There's something really soothing about Ikea, large high ceilings and bare concrete floors, empty enough that no one stares too hard when the strange Korean man starts doing a jig in front of a shelf of bright coloured cutlery, eyes distant. He wonders if Changmin would approve if he bought one of those strange toothpaste squeezing contraptions, if he would think it a little too creepy that they got matching towels. He wonders if Changmin would like the patterns of the new sheets he got to replace the ones he ruined. He wonders if he should wait until Changmin's back to shop, or if he'll still be too pissed off to do any of that.

Yunho wonders about Changmin a lot actually.

Another thing he knows of himself: Yunho's type of live is normally overwhelming and pig headed but Changmin has shown him that he is more than capable of otherwise. Changmin is determination despite that they don't match, that he still has no problem loathing Yunho for petty things like misplaced toothpaste tubes and forgotten keys. His is a practical, workable love that isn't all sunshine and rainbows but doesn't dim down any of the bright adoration he has either.

In the end he gives up and digs out that old handwritten cookbook his mother had given years and years ago, to impress his girlfriend of that time (Ara had ended up with food poisoning but Yunho's sure it wouldn't happen again, now that he was older and smarter and all that), and sticks post its on every recipe he thinks he can create. 

The kimchi he starts three days early and they taste. Edible. Which is an improvement! So okay, that's a well-needed boost of confidence, Yunho is totally sure he can do this now. Two days before Changmin's return, he has to call the fire department. A day before Changmin's return, Boa shows up at his doorstep and Yunho practically throws himself at her feet.

His efforts pay off in the end; dinner is delicious and edible.

Changmin comes home, face overcast, and then it lifts as he steps further in, luggage abandoned at the doorway. His eyebrows furrow and his nose twitches, and then he grins.

The apartment smells like a home he'd almost forgotten.

"Yunho hyung?" he calls, voice light and floaty. For one embarrassing moment, Yunho lets himself have a little squirm of glee, before he steps out of the kitchen.

"Changmin, hey!" Was that too enthusiastic? It _feels_ too enthusiastic; Yunho lowers his hand from its wave and, and uhm tucks it into his pants pockets. Yeah, that's smooth. "You're back! I've been waiting for you."

Changmin scrunches his face and regards him suspiciously. "What's all this about?"

"I made us dinner, this is a dinner date!" and then before he can stop himself, if all slips out, "because that's what couples do?"

Changmin stares blankly at him. "Couples?"

"Which is what we are? Or what I hope we'd be? In a relationship?" Yunho grins out of sheer embarrassment. "Because I really really _really_ like you?"

"What happened to all that 'I'm not looking for a relationship' business?" His suspicion sounds like it's increased tenfold but Changmin inches closer to the table, to him, cautious hopefully. 

"I - that was last time!" Yunho steps closer. "I hadn't realised how much I wanted this - how much I wanted you."

"Do you realise," Changmin says slowly, flatly, as his face struggles against a contradictory smile; the tips of his ears burn, "that we were in a relationship for months now?"

"I didn't," Yunho chirrups, undeterred. "But now I finally got it. Don't you think that calls for a celebration?"

Changmin presses him against the wall, thigh insinuated between his, hard and demanding. The curl of his smile is soft, but it trembles at the corners. "We can celebrate properly later," he says, "why don't you show me how you really feel now?"

But dinner will get cold, Yunho says, he has no idea what he's saying, his dick is screaming at him to shut up but he keeps talking anyway, and I worked really hard to cook this for you!

"… Fine." Pushing off the wall, Changmin takes Yunho's hand and laces their fingers together in a way which would have been romantic except he's squeezing really hard and their bones jar together painfully. "But after that," Changmin tells him, voice wobbling like he's trying not to laugh or to cry or _something_ , "after that we're having all the sex, do you hear me? _All_ the sex!"

What?

"I love you too?" Yunho tries.

Changmin ducks his head. "Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, I meant that," and then stuffs a forkful of kimchi to prevent himself from talking.

Yunho feels his heart inflate.

* * *

Changmin will be all light hearted smiles and teasing kisses that don't lead anywhere because they don't have to anymore. Yunho will wish he had done this months ago.

"I can't believe I waited so long too – "

You can't believe? _You_ think you waited long?" Changmin yells. He tackles Yunho to the bed. "You, after so long of making _me_ , you think _you_ – you fuck. you fucking asshole!"

"I'll make it up to you!" Yunho squawks. "I will, a hundred times over, promise!"

Changmin glowers down at him, dips down to bite sharply at his lower lip, snatches a bruising kiss. "You'd better, Jung Yunho, you'd better!"

With a final strangled scream of frustration, Changmin throws himself back on the bed, ignoring Yunho's oof of pain when an elbow digs into his rib. Instead, he wraps his arms around him and tries to crush his ribs further.

* * *

His primary cellphone and email had been company ones, so they'd been terminated when he'd left, and Yunho had effectively cut off all communication with his past. He's got a disposable phone now, and besides Changmin, his contacts are all from the dance jobs. He's also rebooted an old email account from his high school days (uknowyunho@xxxmail.com, what did that even _mean_?) out of necessity in this day and age, and only Heechul knows to contact him there.

Once a month, Heechul demands for updates, how he's doing and _who_ he's doing, which Yunho replies because he's indebted to the man for keeping his family convinced that he's still alive. So he sends him photographs of him and Changmin mugging for the camera in frivolous, exaggerated happiness.

(Okay, so Heechul had wanted photos of anyone in his life, and Yunho's certainly made quite a few friends but… Changmin! Is _objectively_ his best looking friend! And _theoretically_ his type! And _Korean_ , what better way to placate Heechul's concerns over his social life, right? Yunho totally has no other reason for collecting snapshots of him and Changmin together, absolutely not!)

A few days after he renews his work for his visa, an odd email is waiting in his inbox, not spam, not any address he's received before… in this account. In his old one, on the other hand, every other day,

"Father?" It rolls off his tongue, stilted, and his eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh shit."

The message is cool and crisp and formal, how are you, your mother worries, the company is fine but you should come back soon

"You're not really going to ignore them right?" When Yunho ignores him instead, Changmin tsks and presses harder against Yunho's best until he is bent over his laptop, face inches away from his father's email. "Yunho!"

"But Changmin!" What's his excuse again? What's reasonable enough to get Changmin off his back, both literally and figuratively? "But Changmin, I _don’t want to_! and my father's _scary_!"

There's a tsking sound above him and suddenly the pressure is lifted and Changmin is gone, leaving Yunho to lean against chair, head lolling against its backing.

* * *

"Would it at all help," Changmin wonders, "if I told you that I'm going back to Seoul myself?"

Mid pirouette, Yunho stumbles to a halt and turns to Changmin questioningly. From the hardwood floor, back against the full length mirrors, Changmin raises an eyebrow at him.

Not time for dancing then; Yunho drops into a crouch in front of him, reaches out and pokes Changmin in the nose when he scrunches his face. "Why would you do that?"

"I'm going back for the New Year," replies Changmin, as though it should be obvious, "because, you know, I'm a good, filial son and all that."

"You spent last New Year passed out on the couch after your company dinner," Yunho points out.

"And that's why I have to go back this year."

"Oh." Yunho pulls a face, then flops down next to him, legs straight out in front of him. He wiggles his toes. " _But_."

With a groan, Changmin rolls his eyes. "Come on, you should just come with me. Go home, explore Seoul, go say hi if not to yours, then to mine at least."

Pouting, Yunho stretches his arm high above him, cracking his shoulders, and his hand ends up across Changmin's shoulders in its decent. "My home's in Gwangju."

"Ewww, sweaty!" Changmin fidgets until it becomes clear that Yunho isn't moving. Defeated, he sighs and slumps against Yunho's side. "No, it's not. I googled your company ages back. It's based in Seoul!"

"My family went back to Gwangju when my father stepped down and I, uhm. Took over." Yunho pauses. "And then threw aside." He winces. "I'm not quite sure how to face him yet."

Changmin purses his lips together. Is there any easy way to broach this? "Have you - " he hesitates for a second " – do you know what you're going to tell him?

"Yes, no, maybe? You know that clichéd movie stuff, that I'm happy in Paris and I love it here and I've finally fulfilled my dream." Yunho shrugs. "You know, all that sort of stuff."

"But you haven't, though." Well fuck, Changmin never can control that stupid mouth of his. "Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean – but you didn't? Wait." He flounders, but it is too late to abort this conversation now, so he squeezes Yunho's thigh and hopes for the best. "Which dream are we talking about again? You're not a famous dancer or anything."

"Yeah but, I don't have to be. I've realised that it wasn't ever about being famous. It was about, you know, doing what makes me happy, and that turned out to be dancing more than any office job, no matter the salary gap." Yunho sucks in a breath, staring down at his hands. "I might not be famous but - this is my dream. I can make a living out of something I love and I might not have thousands fans but I have kids and. Even better, I make people happy as well."

A beat.

"Yeah, so that's what I'm going to tell my father, and whether he accepts it or not... well. It's the truth." His part said and then, Yunho watches him carefully, hopefully.

Changmin looks a bit overwhelmed. He struggles to smooth over his features. "You're forgetting about me," he mumbles, voice flat and oddly quiet.

Turning to him, Yunho slings an arm around his waist. "Right, of course, credit goes to you and your life changing writing –"

"No, not that, the fan part!" Changmin braces himself, hunches his shoulders and clenches his fists. "I'm a fan!" he squeaks, and then immediately bounces off the couch. Must flee! But it's too late, Yunho snatches him and reels him back in.

"I have a fan!" Yunho rumbles, voice cracking with mirth. The more Changmin pales with regret, the harder it is not to burst into laughter. " _My_ fan! My _number one_ fan!"

Yunho smothers him with kisses, though he's laughing too much to do anything more than smushing his grin against any patch of bare skin he can find. He mumbles, “Changmin, how do you – love you, I just love you so much.”

He barely has time to register what he'd just said before Changmin is climbing back onto him, hands hot against his cheeks. His face burns vibrantly red but he keeps eye contact and for the first time, he manages a confession of his own – _love you too, god, if you didn't know all this time_ – and then they are kissing, slowly, sweetly, so intensely that Changmin thinks is heart might burst. Yunho pulls back and the look on his face must mirror his.

"Love you," he repeats for good measure, and then he's on his feet and dragging him up together. "C'mon bedroom, now!"

"Or we could just fuck right here?" Changmin replies impatiently, pulls his shirt over his head and tugs on Yunho's in hopes that he would do the same.

"First, you fell off the last time we tried couch sex," Yunho laughs, partly at the memory and mostly at the mortally offended gasp Changmin makes when he escapes his questing hands. "Second, we no longer fuck! Now, we _make love_!"

For a moment, Changmin is stunned with disbelief. Then all at once, Yunho is zipping towards their bedroom as Changmin, shrieking with laughter, chases after him.

* * *

"I'm not packing," Yunho tells Changmin, completely undeterred that Changmin's treating him like an obstruction and pointedly ignoring him. Kicking his legs out – Changmin scowls and slaps his thigh for almost toppling his neat stack of underwear – Yunho barges on regardless. "Because I'm not going to stay long anyway right? And your family thinks I'm a dance instructor – which I am – so I don't need to bring suits that I might need at any of _my_ family's meetings, I'm not even bringing Bambi, I have you to hold to sleep at night anyway and I can't abandon her here – mphf!"

Satisfied, Changmin goes back to packing Yunho grumbles and plucks Bambi off the floor where it had fallen after smacking into his head, refusing to lift his leg to let Changmin at the shirt caught beneath. With a huff, Changmin lifts the leg himself, hefts it up and pinches the back of his knees sharply in punishment. "Aish, hyung, stop being a pest! No one's forcing you to pack," Changmin gripes, "if you've got so much space in your luggage then help me bring those souvenirs back."

Curious, Yunho digs through the plastic bags handed to him and unearths... what appears to be neon pink, knitted tea cosies. Why the hell would anyone want these?

Changmin looks over and cackles. "I told my sisters if they wanted anything, they'd have to be specific. Serves them right!"

"Mean."

"I have normal presents for them too, sheesh. You should get something for your own sister too. And your mother. Maybe your father?" Yunho looks up sharply, mouth twisted in the beginnings of a whine, but Changmin doesn't let him start. "A scarf would be nice, don't you think?"

"I told you already – " Yunho starts, but Changmin straddles him suddenly and shoves him down.

"Kisses!" declares Changmin loudly, and gives Yunho a few, blatantly trying to distract him from his indignation. It kind of works as Yunho gets preoccupied with Changmin's tongue in his mouth, before Changmin pulls back, smug. "Boa already told me you took the days off at work," he confesses, "and she said she gave you presents to pass to her family too."

"Stop conspiring against me." Yunho complains. "You _don't know_ that I'll go with you. Maybe all I'm planning to do is sulk alone at home and miss you terribly but do nothing productive otherwise."

Finally, Changmin's had it. He whirls around, brandishing a coat hanger at him. "Just to confirm," he snaps, "you're just being immature, and I'm being the good boyfriend indulging you, right? You're actually coming with me, right?!"

"… That's not how you indulge someone." Yunho pouts. He holds his arms out plaintively and, groaning and grumbling and complaining, Changmin goes to him.

* * *

"Tickets!" Changmin grins, and Yunho hopes it is only in his imagination that he looks manic. "I got them for both of us with my frequent flyer miles, but you still owe me this month's rent again."

Wait, what? Yunho catches him by the waist and places him between his thighs as he leans against the kitchen counter. The tickets he plucks away and sets on the counter as Changmin shimmies around to face him. "I haven't decided anything," Yunho tells him, “what if I'm not going after all?”

"Yes," Changmin says slowly, "but I didn't think you were actually running away so..."

Yunho stares at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Changmin flushes, bravado gone. His hands flatten over Yunho's chest, fingertips pressing lightly, nervously. "But if you don't want to, I'll just change the name and give it to someone else? Boa said she's got no plans yet, she wouldn't mind taking over your ticket and – "

"No, I'll take it," Yunho answers at last. With a dramatic sigh, he drops his head onto Changmin's shoulder. "You're right, I'm not going to run away."

Changmin's hand comes out to pats his head. "Excellent! And while you're there –" a pause, Changmin takes a deep breath then says as fast as he possibly can "– you're going to play nice and completely keep up the story I used to date Boa and you get to be her colleague who I dumped her for, got it?"

"What?!" Yunho splutters, "Why would I – why would _you_ tell your parents that?!"

"That was before I found out that my parents were okay with homosexuality," Changmin informs him, nodding his head earnestly like he doesn't see anything wrong with what he'd just said. "Aren't you glad there is the slightest of possibilities they'll approve of you as my boyfriend now?"

"No wait, hold up! What did you get her into?!" Yunho cries. "Wait, does she even know that she's your –"

"Yup!" Changmin pulls out his phone and scrolls through his photo album. The most evil of smirks spreads across his face when he finds what he's looking for. "Look, here we are on our first date at the Eiffel Tower! We look good together, right?"

"You went to the Eiffel Tower without me! After all the times you told me you hated it!" Yunho wails. "But – but when?!"

"About a month after you started fucking me, but before we were in a confirmed, official, Jung acknowledged _relationship_. So, around the time _I_ started fucking _you_ , I guess." He waits a bit for Yunho to squirm between guilt and indignation, before sparkling up at him. "Ah, you should see your face! Hyung, don't worry so much; you're still the one I’m bringing home, right?"

"Am I supposed to fall for that?" Yunho demands. To his horror, however, his arms are already wrapping around Changmin and pulling him close, and he suspects there just might be a smile widening across his face. "Oh no, I'm totally falling for it."

Changmin cackles victoriously, hands sliding around his neck in a strangle hold, except it's more like a caress, really. "That's because you're so easy, Yunho hyung."

"It can't be helped that I'm weak against you," Yunho coos, sugary sweet. The mushiness has the effect he is counting on; Changmin flinches and squirms shyly in his arms. The tables have turned! "It can't be helped that I'm falling for _you_ ~"

"Ewww gross, stop that!" Palm squashed against Yunho's grin, Changmin pushes him away. "So this means you're coming with me, right?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," Yunho drawls, and he grins, leaning in for a sweet kiss -

"Packing!" Changmin declares, shoving his face away again. "If you're coming then you need to pack. If you're coming with me, you have to pack _properly_."

Some sort of unholy fire burns bright in Changmin's gaze; Yunho gulps fearfully and tries to pull back. Too late! Kicking, struggling, Yunho is dragged back to into his room.

The door slams shut ominously behind them.

* * *

Yunho wakes up to an ache in his arm and suddenly he is lost. Remnants of Paris London _Seoul_ cling to the back of his eyelids, shuttling him between past and present. Blearily he opens his eyes, stares blankly at the back of an airplane seat. The lights are still glowing sfotly at the ends of the cabin but for the most part, it is dark. His arm throbs again and Yunho tries to move it – ah, Changmin's clutching it to his chest as his head lolls against Yunho's shoulder, the rest of him pressed into Yunho's side the best he can manage with the divider in the way. That's. _Cute_. Yunho tries to get his arm back, so that's okay – then presses a kiss Changmin's hair and sinks right back into him.

Even through their sweaters, the scarf that's actually Yunho's that Changmin refuses to take off, Changmin is near. He is the anchor keeping Yunho in here and now, the quiet staleness of conditioning and the engines quiet him. Slowly, the roar in his ears – it sounded like disapproval, a crowd, once friends, his _family_ – quietens. Yunho sighs, and closes his eyes.

Lips brush against his, chapped but soft, and he opens them again. Changmin watches him quietly, torso angled such that they're better blocked from view. The plane is dark, and the attendants are no longer patrolling the aisles, so Changmin takes another kiss, so sweet that Yunho is slightly overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," Yunho breathes out, he doesn't know why he's saying this now, only that he has to, "for making you wait for so long."

"If it makes you feel better, I was going to kick you out onto the streets if I'd really thought you were just leading me on." At Yunho's look of panic, Changmin smiles and surges up for another world stopping kiss. "Good thing you came to your senses."

"Right, how could I resist you?" Yunho can't help but tease, because for all of Changmin's bravado, he is shaking beneath, a thrum of nervous excitement beneath his skin. 

One more thing: "It wasn't about dance was it?"

"Ah, you finally got it!" Changmin smiles up at him, infinitely proud. "My boyfriend must be a genius."

"Whatever I was looking for," says Yunho, "I think I found it here."

"In Paris?"

 _In you_ , he almost says, but maybe that's a confession for another time, and they have so much of it yet that he's in no hurry at all. Yunho chuckles instead, and kisses Changmin again. "Sure."

Changmin smiles, catches himself and presses back down into Yunho's side, eyes stubbornly closed. With a huff of laughter, Yunho scoots a bit closer then closes his eyes as well. It's been a night of revelations, and now he can't wait for the plane to land.


End file.
